The Last Night
by disneydork29175
Summary: On the eve of Dr. Seuss's death, the Cat in the Hat, there among all of his characters, thinks about what will happen to the other characters, and has one last conversation with his creator.


There was no turning back now. It was a fact. There was nothing that anybody could do. Not even him.

The Cat looked around the room at the different characters, ones he had come to know and love and respect. Well, mostly respect. Keep his space, he supposed. All of them were united again for one purpose. Their creator was dying.

His health had been declining, he knew that. He knew three weeks ago, when Ted had stopped doing "Cat Notes" that it wasn't much longer. The scare with the blindness, though happening longer ago, was a sign of old age. But it just couldn't happen. Not to him. Why him?

You see, it's different for characters. They never age. They remain forever as the persona that they were supposed to. In his case, a mischievous cat. In others, a little Who girl and boy, a large elephant that can't seem to get a break, and the 7 Lady Godivas. That book was one he was not around for the creation of, but it still amused him every time he thought of it. Nonetheless, they were forever the 7 Ladies, just as he was forever a cat. They didn't need to worry about aging or dying. All they had to do was worry about the people around them. The ones they knew and loved.

Like him.

He was sleeping now, at 8:34pm on September 23, 1991. Again, the Cat looked around at the faces. Everyone had come. The Once-ler had even slunk out of his Lerkim, although he wasn't showing his face. Everyone else though, had a look of worry, fear, and hurt. They were scared, not just for their creator, but for themselves. What became of them? What do you do when there's nothing left to do? Nothing in the world that you could possibly pursue? And what if they just couldn't. What if they died along with their creator?

The Cat swung his feet under the old desk he was sitting on, jumping to his feet. "Right then." He said, getting the attention of most in the room. "I, for one, am not going to start the whole 'We're gathered here today' speech, or the 'We had a great run' speech. Because, those are cliché and stupid. And, as we all know, we are anything but cliché."

There was no laughter. In fact, most were glaring at him, Krinklebine being the harshest judge. He held up his hands in defense, a smile crossing his face despite everything. "Alright, alright, hold your fire and calm down."

"Calm down?" the Sour Kangaroo repeated. "Cat, I don't know if you've noticed, but the man who created us is dying!"

The hatted cat leaned against the wall, his eyes hard, though his tone of voice careless. "Yes, I am aware of this fact. We all are. Thank you for reminding us." the kangaroo narrowed her eyes at the cat, who smiled charmingly in return. She huffed, returning to her state of sadness. "Thank you." the Cat said, tipping his Hat to her.

"Now just listen for a moment, alright?" he said, his voice becoming strong and serious. "We're going to make it through this, all of us. Even though he might pass, we won't. We never will. Do you understand me?" the reaction was mixed: some nodded their heads in agreement, others gave him a blank stare. "We don't die. We never can, unless the kids forget about us." he looked over the group, smiling a smile of an old man giving advice to a younger generation. "And the kids can _never_ forget us. They can't live without us, and I'm willing to bet my life that we'll still be around for an awful long time."

The characters looked around the room, murmuring amongst each other. Krinklebine poked his head out of the fish bowl. "What's the catch?" he asked, his steely gaze fixed on the cat. "There's always a catch to whatever you say, even the advice."

The Cat blinked for a moment, then removed his Hat sadly, thinking it over. "There's always a catch to everything, Krinklebine, not just what I say." he chewed on his lip a moment, glancing up at the ceiling. "Well, I suppose there is something to drag this fact down. After this, nothing is new. We'll be stuck in reverse. There will be no new adventures, or at least none that are the same." he paused a moment, the thought rolling over in his head a couple of times.

'No new adventures.' It was a fact he almost couldn't bear. Being a cat of adventure and newness and ideas, the sudden stop to it all was frightening to say the least. He would be a muse without an artist, something he wasn't prepared for in the least. But he had to make it through this, at least. "It won't be easy, I can tell you that. And I can't promise you anything. Any of you. We could die with him, we could live forever. I don't know. I just... Don't know.

"But if we do live, we have to think outside of ourselves. We aren't the only one that grieves for him." he looked outside of the open window, the warm La Jolla air circulating in and out. "There's a whole world out there that grew up with him. They're going to be devastated, and we are who they will turn to. And Audrey." he gestured to the door. "Audrey will still be with us, and she will be for a long time, I can feel it. We have to comfort her.

"Please, remember, your first responsibility is to the children, all of them. Even the ones past the 'normal' age of 10. Chances are, adults will grieve as well. We just have to be there."

This was not right. Normally, he liked being pushed into situations that he hadn't experienced before. It was interesting and fun, but that wasn't the case at all. This was painful, horrible, and not something he wanted to experience. And he was the one who had to rally the troops, make sure everybody was alright. It wasn't going to be easy, that was for sure. Marco of Mulberry Street was about to have a nervous breakdown, while Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea (whom he affectionately called Morti) barely looked affected. Daisy Headed Mayzie had no idea what was going on, from her spot on the paper on the author's desk she could neither see nor hear nothing. Horton was filling her in, as well as filling in Morton, the elephant bird, which he has since adopted.

The room had dispersed for the most part. Some had left to talk with Audrey or the others, most had needed a break from the long, arduous wait. The Cat stayed. It was his obligation, the least he could do. Besides, he needed to be there if- _when_ Ted woke up. When he woke up, the Cat would be there.

He would wake up. He had to. At least one more time. The last thing he said was, "I will not die tomorrow." those would be horrible last words! No, he had to have better ones. For his own sake, he needed better ones. But what words could sum up a life of such epic proportions?

He had really been lucky, honestly. He was almost not made. All it took was a list of 250 words, and the luck of which two rhymed first. That's when he had first sprung to life. He had no idea where he was, or what he was doing there, but there was a young man there who looked fun, and by gosh, he would stay with him. Even if he was just a voice at the time, eventually the cat got a body and a hat, and then a job. Entertain the children, annoy the fish, make sure ideas don't leave his creators head. It was a nice deal, really.

Dr. Seuss - Ted, as the Cat called him - was a bit of an odd man. But who didn't like odd people? They're fascinating and fun. The Cat smiled as he remembered the way of making sure Bennett Cerf was really, truly reading their books. "You remember him, Ted?" he asked aloud, knowing that he couldn't be heard, but it comforted her. "Which one was your favorite, the 'XXX' page in the ABC book, or the contraception in Hop on Pop?"

The room was completely empty now. The remaining few had left to do whatever they needed to. It was just a cat and an author. The time on the clock now read 10:17pm, and nothing had changed. His breathing was still steady, and everything looked fine and-

What was he doing? The Cat jumped off the desk, starting to pace the floor. He wasn't supposed to worry. He was supposed to be carefree and happy. Why wasn't he carefree and happy? This wasn't right, or fair, or anything that it was supposed to be. It wasn't what he knew, and it certainly wasn't something he wanted to know, which was also new.

He looked over at his friend again. That's right, his friend. This wasn't about business anymore, or putting out the next book, or messing with Bennett. This was real, and mattered, and was to be taken seriously. The Cat let out a laugh. "I have never taken anything seriously in my entire life." He mused, walking over to the cot where Ted slept. "And you're making me start with you." He leaned against the wall, eyes darting around the room, still covered with sketches and storyboards and made up animals. "What would Dr. Seuss do?" he asked aloud. "What did you do?"

"What do you mean?"

The Cat looked over to the voice, seeing Ted looking back at him, propped up on his elbows. His face automatically broke out in a grin, because for a second, everything is alright. "Morning Ted."

"What time is it?" the author asked, searching for his glasses.

"10:45 pm." The Cat answered simply, smiling. "But, hey. It's morning somewhere." He felt an odd sense of calm taking over him. Everything was alright now, his friend was awake. He crossed over to him, handing the author his glasses, then sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. There was a moment of silence before the Cat repeated his previous musings. "So what did you do?"

The author lay back down, looking at the ceiling. "I've done a lot of things in my life, Cat. You're going have to be a bit more specific." He chuckled, his laughs not as strong as before.

The Cat managed a grin, glancing over to Ted. "Please, I'm trying to be serious."

"You're not meant for serious." The author scoffed. "You're supposed to be fun."

He just shrugged. "I'm doing the best I can. Once in a lifetime opportunity here, seeing me serious. Just enjoy it!" the hatted cat turned so he was actually facing the man. "What did you do after someone died?"

"You mourn."

"But I don't want to do that." He argued, turning to face the man.

"Then don't!" the author said with a smile. "It's a simple thing, Cat. Everybody mourns for someone they love or who affected their lives greatly, but some do so more than others. I prefer not to dwell on the past, but you can't help it sometimes."

"What will happen to us?" the Cat asked, holding on to the sliver of hope that somehow his friend would know. Somehow he would be able to see what happened and warn or tell them what happened. Just because. Because it's him. "Please, even if you don't know, make something up."

Ted sighed, a sad smile taking over his face. "When I die, nothing will happen to you. You will continue life as usual, like everyone does. You will remember me, but not in sadness. Instead, smile at the good times we've shared... And I do believe the XXX page was the best editing trick we've ever pulled."

The Cat let out a laugh, a real one this time. He brought himself to silence though, as the author continued to explain. "You will keep going on without me. Someone out there who cares about the characters will keep you alive and in their hearts. Maybe you'll even find some new adventures, with another man beside you to try and harness your utter craziness and genius." the feline beamed as the author continued.

"Or maybe it won't be with a man, but with a child. You matter to them, and the adults who read your book. You have to be an inspiration... Not too hard, considering who I'm talking to. But they are still full of ideas and adventures. Find one of them and make a friendship. Stay by their side no matter what. Help them through their bad times, make them happy and cheerful, make them think and question life's realities. And when they grow old, like me, don't turn away from them. Stay. Tell them everything will be alright, or remind them of a better place they could go to. Or better yet, just stay with them. Don't pull out a show, don't make them uncomfortable. Just stay and talk, like we are now, and make them forget. And when they pass, remember them with joy.

"It's a hard thing to do," the author admitted, his voice sounding a bit weaker. "But I know you can, and you will. Because that's who you are."

The grin was falling from the Cat's face, being overtaken with a sad sort of smile. "Then I'll stay. I won't leave you, no matter what."

Ted returned the smile. "I wouldn't want to spend my last moments with anybody else." the author closed his eyes again, attempting to sleep again. The Cat didn't exactly know what to say, so for once in his life, he said nothing. The conversation faded into the realm of what was, and the author's quiet, rhythmic breathing filled the room.

Over the course of the night, as various characters migrated in and out of the small room, the breathing slowed, still steady. The Cat stayed beside him, not speaking a word, besides to address another's presence. Some stayed with him in the room, like Gertrude McFuzz and Sam-I-Am. Even Krinklebine was placed on the drawing board so he could be with him. Most of them dozed off, but the Cat stayed awake. He had to. For his friend.

It was mid-morning on September 24, 1991 that Dr. Seuss passed away, his loyal characters around him. The Cat watched as he did, the spark of life that lit the author extinguished forever. For a moment, he did not react, still gazing at the body with sadness. Then he stood, catching the attention of all in the room.

"He's gone."

The silence hung over the room, clinging heavily to everything and everyone. It was an odd change. Usually a room full of these characters produced noise that could be heard two houses down. Now no one spoke. A few started to cry, the situation hitting them fully and hard. The Cat offered them a sad smile, mentally shaking himself. The doctor's words echoed through his mind, and somehow came out of his mouth.

"We will not remember him in sadness," he said firmly, looking around the room. "Instead, we will smile at the bonds we created with him, be you his first character, his last, or anything in between. Remember the good times, reflect on your memories, but continue to move forward and enjoy life. Okay?" the vast majority of the characters nodded, while the Once-ler and the Grinch just scowled. Understandably.

"No matter what, guys, we're still a family. A horribly, _horribly_ dysfunctional family, but a family nonetheless. No one will have to go through this alone."

Cindy Lou Who bit her lip and looked to the ground, tears in her eyes as well. "He broke his promise." she murmured sadly. "He said he wasn't going to die tomorrow."

"It was the last thing he said." Krinklebine chimed in. "Right Cat? I mean, he didn't say anything else before he went to sleep."

The Cat looked at the fish, before glancing back at the still author. "Yep" he confirmed. "Last words." He cleared his throat, forcing himself to smile. He had to. Because, no matter what, he was still the Cat in the Hat. Nothing on earth could change that, not even the absence of one person. He had to keep going and live life, like they all did. The world would not stop turning, and maybe someday he would see his friend again. Full of life and laughing with his gruff voice. But he would not, could not wait for that day.

He had a friend to find.


End file.
